CHAPTER 547: WAIT! WHO SAID I’M YOUR ARTIST?!

The makeup room buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Bright bulbs framed the mirrors in harsh halos, and the smell of foundation, hairspray, and warm curling irons created a foggy atmosphere that clung to the skin.

Micah sat in a chair, hands folded neatly on his lap, remaining still as the ends of his newly extended silver hair rested against his shoulder, framing his pale face with an almost metallic sheen. The sharp artistic strokes of makeup gave him a cool, celestial air; cheekbones highlighted in soft moon-white, his lips tinted a faint icy blue, and eyeliner drawn in crisp geometric lines that made his eyes appear slightly larger, slightly unreal, as though he were actually a humanoid stepping out of a sci-fi world.

He tilted his chin as the makeup artist applied the final touches. "Done! Wonderful. Go on and change your clothes now," the makeup artist said, patting Micah’s shoulder.

Micah thanked her politely and walked toward the changing room. That was when he heard the gossip.

Micah stopped, busying himself with shoelaces as his ear perked up, enlarging until they felt like enormous elephant ears flapping on the sides of his head, catching every sound. His neck stiffened as he angled his body sideways, subtly leaning toward the voices.

In the corner of the room where the refreshments were stacked, people were murmuring.

"Did you see the social media headlines last night?" a hairstylist asked, her voice pitched into that perfect tone used solely for drama

"Oh my god, you mean that awful manager?" someone whispered back.

"Is it really true?"

"I can’t imagine working with someone like that for years!"

"But is that article reliable?" another chimed in. "You know Twilight entertainment is really powerful, backed up by that filthy rich family. Who knows...Maybe they are throwing the manager under the bus to protect Leo?"

"No way!" a makeup assistant said, slapping her comb against her thigh. "Didn’t you see their shares drop overnight? If the accusations are true, it is corporate suicide! How much could Leo even earn for them compared to the loss?"

"Right..." people murmured in agreement, nodding vigorously.

"I heard something else..." someone whispered, leaning closer as if the walls had ears. "That this wasn’t the first time. Twilight Entertainment... their managers have been pimping newcomers for years!"

"Oh gosh! What a horrible company!" another gasped, covering her mouth.

"Poor Leo... maybe he was forced to do it too, but resisted?"

Then another one noticed Micah. "Shush!" she said to others.

Caught, Micah straightened up, his expression perfectly innocent. He walked toward them and asked, "Sister, what are you all talking about?"

"Oh my, nothing serious. By the way, have you signed with any company? Better watch out," the makeup artist said. "Nowadays, there are many scammers."

She winked at others. This sweet little brother was too innocent to hear about the dark side of the entertainment industry.

Micah shook his head, wanting to ask more when another staff member showed up.

"Hey, you are here! We are already behind schedule. Come on. Hurry up and change!"

Micah was herded into the changing area like a lost lamb.

As he stepped behind the curtain, his mind went back to the gossip. His efforts had paid off. It wouldn’t be long until Twilight met its demise. Then he could seize their resources for his new company.

Meanwhile, outside the changing room, another wave of whispers erupted.

"That manager is here!"

"The woman who produced three A-listers in a row?"

"The one celebrities kneel to? That devil?"

"That queen," someone corrected.

While Micah changed, he heard the conversation outside but didn’t think much of it.

"Why do you think she has come here of all places?" a voice asked.

"Maybe for scouting?"

"For who? That actress? Makes sense. She is so gorgeous!"

"But I heard she belongs to Starlight Entertainment?"

"Yeah. That’s La Riviere Rival."

Micah paused. A bad feeling crept up.

When he finally stepped out of the changing area, adjusting the tight collar of his suit, every head in the corridor snapped toward him.

The futuristic one-piece suit Micah was wearing was smooth, graphite-black, and form-fitting like it was poured into him. It outlined the subtle curves of his torso and hugged his shoulders with streamlined seams, making him look almost inhuman, an elegant creature sculpted with symmetry in mind. The black suit contrasted his silver hair, highlighting the intensity of his hazel eyes.

Noticing Micah, Evelyn walked toward him, giving him a slow, calculated once-over. "Not bad," she murmured, her painted lips curling into approval. She reached forward, fingers brushing the fabric of Micah’s one-piece bodysuit. "You have a nice physique. I was worried the body shape would be too eye-catching. But..." her hand slid from shoulder to chest, to his waist, and back up again. "With these toned lines, we don’t need extra editing."

Her palm was warm. Her movements were too bold.

Micah tensed, feeling she was measuring his worth like livestock before being sold.

Then a hand shot out and grabbed Evelyn’s wrist. "Director," a woman spoke, voice cool and crisp.

Micah turned his head. A woman in her early thirties stood there, sleek black hair tied back into a low twist, slim rectangular glasses perched on her nose. She wore a black pantsuit tailored perfectly, highlighting long legs and a narrow waist. Her features were sharp and elegant, but her expression was frosted over with a distant chill.

Patricia Mullins. The top-tier A-lister manager. Not that Micah knew her.

Even her presence seemed to lower the room’s temperature a few degrees.

"It might raise questions," Patricia said, "if you touch newcomers so excessively, people could even accuse you of sexual harassment."

Evelyn yanked her hand free, raising an eyebrow. "Manager Mullins, what brings you here?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I didn’t know you were this compassionate to even worry for a rookie?"

Patricia Mullins glanced at Micah briefly before replying. "Oh, I am only concerned about my own artist."

The room fell into dead silence.

Micah blinked once. Twice. His mouth parted slightly. Artist who?!